


an unusual night

by OnyxSphinx



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: F/F, my characters now deknight, you can pry them from my cold dead hands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:54:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23190469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyxSphinx/pseuds/OnyxSphinx
Summary: When she opens them, her gaze catches someone else's across the room; short, and dark haired, the woman approaches her. "May I buy you a drink?" she asks; voice lower than Liwen expects, given the loudness of the bar around them; a bit taken aback by the other's eyes flick across her form; but pleasantly so."I wouldn't be opposed," she replies, testing the waters; for all she knows, this could be the paparazzi.
Relationships: Mako Mori/Liwen Shao
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	an unusual night

Doctor Liwen Shao is twenty-something—gods, nine? or thirty? she can barely remember—and an up-and-coming CEO of Shao Industries, one of the most reputable technology corporations. She is barely more than five feet, but she stands straight-backed, gaze unwavering; sure of herself and her technology both.

This is, however, not Liwen.

Liwen is not this; not when she's alone, at least; what little time she has alone transforms her into another person, almost; gone is the immaculate mask she wears, the pristine white clothing, posture slumping with weariness.

This is the Liwen that's dangerously close to slipping through the carefully-curated façade, now, as she sits at this table, trying to explain to a board of— _morons_ , frankly, why she refuses to allow her technology to be used in the training of _child soldiers_.

 _No_ , she refuses to call it anything but what it is.

"Ms. Shao—" starts one of the men, his hologram jittering slightly as the connection wavers.

" _Doctor_ Shao," she says, sharply, "and _no_ , I will _not_ reconsider."

The men exchange looks. "Please, be _reasonable,_ " another one tries, "Doctor—"

Her eye twitches—almost. She really, really would like to throw something. Instead, she draws in a steadying breath. "My decision is final," she says, firmly, "good day, gentlemen."

One of them begins to protest, but she turns off the projector with a vicious kind of satisfaction.

She finally cracks a week later; the stress of life finally gets to her, like Atlas carrying the world. She can't imagine trying to look at another report from R&D without screaming; Doctor Geiszler's spent the entire day skittering out of her way like a startled hare because of it.

Finally, begrudgingly, she accepts her fate; leaves on time instead of late into the night when the sun's only hours from rising, and tries to sleep, to no avail.

Her mind refuses to rest; buzzing with anxiety and ideas, it drives her to pacing her bedroom until, finally, fed up with it, she pulls on a coat and walks out the door.

There's no particular destination in her mind; she lets her feet guide her, breathing in the chilled autumn air, the crispness of winter biting at her cheeks already; shoves her hands further into her coat-pockets, looking all the world like an average person.

The bright neons hitting her face surprise her; she's come to a halt in front of a bar—the _Red Dragon_ —, its lights shining like a beacon on the otherwise dim, dark street.

She goes in. "One gin and tonic, please," she requests; the drink is terrible, in all honesty, but there's something about experiencing the mundanity that sweetens the taste; rarely does she ever get to go anywhere without an entourage of paparazzi.

She finishes it off; closes her eyes with a sigh that's not discontented.

When she opens them, her gaze catches someone else's across the room; short, and dark haired, the woman approaches her. "May I buy you a drink?" she asks; voice lower than Liwen expects, given the loudness of the bar around them; a bit taken aback by the other's eyes flick across her form; but pleasantly so.

"I wouldn't be opposed," she replies, testing the waters; for all she knows, this _could_ be the paparazzi.

The woman hums and gestures the barkeeper. "One whiskey on the rocks, and a rum, please," she says, tipping her head to Liwen.

"Whiskey?" Liwen questions, once the barkeep's out of earshot. "You seem a bit..."

"Small?" the other supplies, drily. "Yes, I get that quite often—trust me, I'm far more than I look."

Something about that belies a steeliness; Liwen bites back the instinctual urge to shiver. "Liwen," she says, offering her hand.

The other smiles; seems to recognise her, but doesn't make a scene of it. "Mako," she says, and returns the gesture. "What are you doing in the Red Dragon tonight, Doctor Liwen?"

"...not much," Liwen admits, "I, ah, was having trouble sleeping."

Mako huffs; amused. "I see," she says. "Well—"

Whatever she's going to say next is cut off as their glasses knock wood. Liwen doesn't register it for a moment, and by then, Mako's already reached out and grabbed the rum, offering it to her. Liwen swallows and takes it, tries not to drop the cup when their fingers briefly meet.

They drink in silence for a few moments, before Mako says, "You're a very strange woman, Doctor Liwen...hardly the type to frequent the _Dragon_ , let alone have a conversation with one of its regulars."

Liwen starts, guiltily tearing her eyes away and back to the other's own. "Like I said," she says, "trouble sleeping. Though, really, I can't complain," she nods to the other.

Mako's laugh is rich. "Coming from _you_ ," she shoots back, and heat blooms in Liwen's cheeks; unexpected; her gaze flicks, nervous, to the ground, before she looks back up; swallows.

The other sits straight-backed on her stool, face softened by shadow, looking entirely at home; something about her says _danger_ , _enter at your own risk_ , and Liwen shivers. It's...embarrassingly attractive. She clears her throat. "Do you work around here?"

"Work?" Mako raises her brow, "you look like you've had a stressful day—you want to talk about _work_."

Liwen huffs. "Not really," she admits, "but—well..." she trails off.

"Cat got your tongue?" supplies the other.

" _You've_ got my tongue," Liwen blurts out, and then cringes; really, truly terrible; congrats, self, now she sounds— 

Mako laughs; "That's my goal," she says, easily; leans forward, just the smallest amount, into Liwen's space, which, oh, gods, okay—she lets out a shaky exhale, frozen in place. Mako doesn't move any closer. "Please tell me if I'm overstepping, but you seemed... _amenable_."

" _Amenable,_ " Liwen breathes, and then laughs, slightly strangled. "Yes, I—rather so."

Mako smiles; rises to her feet and offers her hand. "Shall we?"

They get halfway back to Liwen's flat before she even realises it; the colours seeming vibrant and rapid-fire around them, and she clenches her hands in her pockets to stop from reaching out. Mako, by her side, walks shoulders squared, the neon lights of the buildings around them giving her black jacket an almost iridescent quality.

As they step into the elevator, Liwen wonders, suddenly, if this is a horrible mistake.

Mako catches her expression. "Something wrong?"

"I've never—done this before," Liwen blurts, without intending it. "Not—not at all." _I don't want to disappoint,_ she means, the embarrassment burning hot in her gut.

Still, the other seems to pick up on it; face softening, and she says, "Oh—no, don't worry. It's nothing to worry about."

"But—" Liwen stops; bites her lip. "I'm not experienced. At all."

Just admitting it feels like showing weakness; thirty, and she hasn't ever had so much as a one-night-stand, but that's the truth of the matter; life and apathy've always gotten in the way, and when they haven't, her own awkward, deer-in-the-headlights reaction has. 

"And?" Mako questions, "we all have to start at _some_ point." 

Liwen worries her lip. "If you'd rather not, that's quite alright," Mako reassures, "whatever you're comfortable with."

"No, I—" Liwen pauses. "You're right," she says, "I'm just...I don't want to do it wrong."

"No such thing," Mako says. 

The elevator dings, indicating they've reached their floor, and Liwen starts. Mako's lips crook into a smile, and she says, "Shall we?"

"Yes, I—let's," Liwen says, and takes a tentative step forward, out into the hallway; presses her palm to the lock-pad, and the door clicks open a moment later. "Come in?" she offers, and the other tilts her head, the crooked smile widening.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me at [autisticharrow](https://autisticharrow.tumblr.com/) on tumblr


End file.
